Blast from the Past, Part IV final installment
by Jada115
Summary: There's a mystery surrounding Miranda's divorce and Alan's wish to date her is delayed unexpectedly.


That night Alan met Denny on the balcony.

"Seems the divorce is final now."

"Really?"

"Yes; he signed the papers. But, you know, Denny it's quite a mystery. Here was a man who was determined not to sign them, wanted to hassle Miranda for as long as he could. Then suddenly he up and signs the papers."

"Huh," Denny said, pensively biting his cigar. "Divorce works in mysterious ways."

"Sleep over?"

Denny turned on him. "You know, I think you have mad cow. You get the divorce. You can now finally be with this beautiful woman who turns you into a girl and you want to have a sleep over with me?"

"She's out with friends tonight."

"Oh, really? Ditched you, huh? Probably for being a girl."

"She didn't ditch me, Denny." Alan laughed. "She already had these plans since neither of us expected the papers to be signed. So now I don't have a date tonight."

"I suppose. But this time, you can't eat the red hots in the bed."

"Why not?"

"Because last time, you fell asleep and they spilled into the bed or something. I woke up with red hots stuck to my ass cheek."

"Wait a minute, Denny. You had on pajamas when we went to bed," Alan said suspiciously.

"Well, I got hot in the night."

Alan jumped up and moved away from him, said excitedly, "You slept naked in the bed with me?"

Denny got up and moved toward him.

"It was just that one night, I swear. I was hot."

"Why didn't you just keep your boxers on at least? That's a deal breaker, Denny."

"Aw, c'mon, Alan."

"No, no, no."

"So does that mean we aren't having the sleep over?"

Alan hesitated. He really wanted the sleep over. He hadn't had one in a long time.

"Alan," Denny said coaxingly. "I'll make popcorn, lots of butter and salt—just like you like it."

"On one condition."

"What?"

"Your clothes stay on all night. Turn the air on if you have to."

"I got a new thermostat. I don't know how to work it."

"I'll look at it when I get there."

"So you're coming over?"

"Yes. But I have a feeling I won't sleep very well."

Alan and Denny had just finished watching television and was about to turn in for the night.

"It's kind of cold in here," Denny said.

"Good. There's likelihood of waking up naked."

Denny went to brush his teeth while Alan called to check on Miranda.

"Hey!" she said happily. "What are doing?"

"I'm having a sleepover with Denny."

"Aw, that's sweet. Are you curling each other's hair, talking about your favorite boys?"

Alan laughed. "If that came from anyone else I would be really offended. But I know you're joking. You are joking, right?"

"Of course I am. Well, except for the sweet part. It is sweet the way you two take care of each other."

"Denny calls me a girl. You call me sweet. I might as well start wearing dresses to work every day and dress as a man on Halloween."

She laughed. "Don't worry darling. I'll have you feeling like a man again soon enough." She growled into the phone playfully.

"I look forward to seeing your therapy in action. Did you enjoy your evening?"

"I did. We had a great time. I was just getting ready for bed when you called."

"And what are you wearing tonight?"

"Alan, you're at Denny's."

"I just want to know. Give me something to think about, dream about."

"A t-shirt and boxer shorts and big fuzzy socks since my feet are cold. Oh, and my ratty old flannel robe. Is that sexy enough for you?"

"Absolutely. You sound lovely like a comfy pair of jeans you can rough and tumble in and you don't have to worry about getting them messed up."

She giggled.

They talked a little longer and was about to say goodbye, but she stopped.

"Miranda you there?"

"Alan," she whispered, "I think someone is here. I hear someone at my door."

"Don't answer it."

"I'm not." She jumped off the bed and rummaged through her night stand. "I think he's in the house."

"I'm calling the police on my cell phone. Stay on the phone with me, Miranda." Alan grabbed his cell and dialed 911.

"I'm right here." Her voice trembled. She found a small can of air freshener spray and a lighter.

The knob on her bedroom door jiggled.

"Oh my God, oh my God, Alan; he's at my bedroom door. I have no where to go." She tiptoed into the closet and hid there.

The 911 operator answered. "Hello, there is an emergency at 483 Rosemont. An intruder is in the house right now as we speak. He could be armed and dangerous. Please hurry."

Denny stepped out with his toothbrush in his mouth. He mumbled, "Who are you talking to?"

Alan ignored him. "I've called the police they are on the way. I'm getting dressed and I will be right there."

"Miranda!" Derek's voice called from the other side of the door, "I want to talk to you. Open the door."

"Get out, Derek. I've called the cops."

"Open the goddamned door!" he screamed, pounding on it.

Miranda put the phone in one of her robe pockets and dropped the aerosol can of air freshener in the other. She readied her lighter.

"Miranda?" Alan said. He could hear what was going on, but she seemed to have dropped the phone.

Suddenly the door flew open, the knob leaving a hole in the wall and the door jamb cracked. He had kicked it in.

Miranda flinched in the closet, but pressed her lips together.

Derek said softly, "Miranda? Where are you baby? I know you're in here because the door was locked. I just want to talk to you is all."

"Miranda! Miranda!" Alan yelled.

Derek noticed the cordless phone was out of its cradle He jerked the phone out of the wall. Alan's end the phone went dead.

Miranda watched him through the crack in the door. He was going to check the closet next. She pulled out her lighter wand and lit it. Derek heard the click come from the closet and smiled.

"Miranda!" Alan yelled. When there was no answer, he slammed down the phone, threw on his coat over his t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Denny, I'm terribly sorry, but I have to go. Miranda's in trouble."

"I'm going with you," Denny said, tucking a gun in the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

They dashed out the door.

Derek flung open the door to find Miranda holding the trigger on her lighter wand and a single little flame shooting from its tip.

"You're going to have to do better than that," he smiled wickedly.

She stepped out of the closet, putting herself closest to the bedroom door, holding the flame.

"So who were you on the phone with?" Derek said, closing in on her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"None of your business."

"Was it your little lawyer friend? Is he your new lover?"

"None of your business. The cops have been called. You need to leave."

"No! Not until I've had my say," he said, jerking a gun tucked in the waist of his pants.

Miranda gasped loudly and began backing away, feeling for the can of aerosol in her pocket.

He added, "I just want to talk to you." He had clearly been drinking; tears swelled in his eyes.

"There's nothing to talk about. Don't you get that? I don't want you."

She inched slowly around the wall, locked in the sight of his gun. He continued talking and closing in on her. "See you won't even _listen_…that smart ass lawyer always hanging around…and now this, this TRO. Why are you doing this?"

She could hear the sirens in the distance and hoped they were for her.

She stopped moving and let him come nearer. "You know Derek," she said, trying to still her trembling voice, "You're right. I haven't been listening. I've been acting so silly. Maybe we should get back together."

He was very close to her now and had dropped the gun a little. When he was within a foot of her, she jerked the aerosol can out of her pocket at the same time she raised the flame and sprayed the aerosol into the flame. A blast of fire shot out into Derek's face. He dropped the gun and screamed, putting his hands to his face.

"You bitch! I'll kill you."

She dropped the lighter wand and can, picked up his gun, and ran toward the front door.

He caught her in the living room by the hair then wrested the gun from her hand. He stunk of scorched hair and flesh. When he got the gun free he backhanded her to one side then the other. She stumbled to the ground and scooted away from him. He drew the gun on her. Miranda put her hands up.

The cops burst in. He turned the gun on them.

There was a roar of voices screaming at one another, sirens, red and blue lights flashing against the wall. Derek wouldn't put down his gun.

He pointed it at Miranda again. As the cops shot him, Derek's gun went off and hit Miranda in the shoulder. Derek fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Miranda rolled to the ground, holding her arm. The cops descended on them.

By the time Alan made it across town, the situation was over and the cops were roping off the scene and taking statements from neighbors.

Alan jumped out of his car and asked the nearest cop, "Where's the woman who lives here, Miranda Houston?"

"Over there." The cop pointed to the ambulance.

Denny followed him.

Alan stomach turned. As he moved through the crowd he felt as though he were moving through quicksand. He started a chant in his head "She can't be dead. She can't be dead. She can't be…"

"Wait!" Alan shouted at the EMT. "I'm her lawyer—friend—guy—whatever."

Miranda smiled up at him and held out her hand to him.

He took her hand and asked the paramedic, "Is she alright?"

"Yea," the EMT said, "Just a shoulder wound. She's pretty doped up right now though. Pain killers."

"I'm glad you could make it," she said weakly, "You missed all the fun though."

"I see that. I got here as fast as I could."

"I know. I'm glad you came."

"Sir, we need to take her now."

"Miranda, I will see you at the hospital, okay. I will be there as soon as I talk to the officers. I promise." He kissed her hand before they pulled her away and her fingers slid from his.

"I love you, Alan," she murmured.

Denny and Alan looked at each other then looked at the EMT.

Alan said to the EMT, "Did you hear that?"

The EMT shrugged. "Yea so?"

Alan chuckled nervously, "You don't think she meant that do you? You said yourself she's on painkillers."

"Yea, pretty strong ones. People say crazy things when they're all doped up like that."

"Yea," Denny said. "It's just the pain killers. I wouldn't rely on anything that came out of her mouth right now."

Alan watched the ambulance pull away. "Yea, it's just the painkillers. Has to be."

Alan got the story of how Miranda was shot from the police. He would get her version at the hospital. He and Denny drove straight there and arrived at the ER after she had already entered surgery. Once she was wheeled into recovery, Alan was allowed in to see her.

"Mr. Shore," the nurse called softly. "You may see her, but she's just coming out of surgery so she's still pretty groggy."

"Thank you."  
Miranda heard Alan's voice calling her name, but he sounded so far away. She wanted to open her eyes, but she was so tired. She caught small glimpses of him as her eyes rolled open then shut. Finally she forced her eyes open.

Her throat felt like sandpaper. "Hey you," she said.

"Hey," he said, smoothing her hair back, smiling down at her. "How do you feel?"

"On top of the world. Ready for round two."

He chuckled.

"So I hear I got shot."

"Yes. In the shoulder. You were lucky."

"What happened to…"

"Derek?"

She nodded.

"He was wounded in the leg, Miranda. After his surgery though, he's going straight to prison. If I have anything to do with it, he won't see the light of day ever again."

She closed her eyes, and turned her head.

"Look at me Miranda."

She turned her head to him; her eyes fluttered open.  
"I'm so sorry it turned out this way," he said genuinely.

"Me, too."

He kissed her forehead.

"So I guess this means we can't go for our date tonight."

"Yep. You know, Miranda, if you don't want to date me, you should just be honest about it and quit coming up with all these lame excuses."

She chuckled. "I just didn't want to hurt your feelings. Can we still be friends?"

He smiled warmly. "Of course."

"I'm so sleepy," she said, fighting to stay awake.

"I know. You get some rest."

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely."

"Pinky swear?" she held up her pinky finger.

He locked his pinky with hers. "Pinky swear it."

She drifted back to sleep, still holding his pinky. He lifted her hand and kissed it and gently let it go.

When Miranda's eyes opened, Alan was there. He hadn't left. He was sitting beside her bed, drinking coffee from a paper cup and watching CNN with closed captioning.

"What time is it?" she said hoarsely.

"Around noon. The nurse said once you're up and moving you may get to go home in a couple hours."

She tried to sit up with her good arm.

"Here, allow me," Alan said, pushing a button to lift her bed.

"I need to…ugh." Her head was swimming and looping in and out, causing her stomach to turn. She could still taste the anesthesia, which tasted a little like she had eaten a rubber glove. "I have got to get up," she said. She pulled her self to sit on the side of the bed. Alan stood by in case she needed help.

As soon as she stood upon her feet on the cold tile, her whole body seemed to spiral. "Bathroom, quick." She knew this feeling and knew what the result would be.

The nurse had instructed Alan to stay with Miranda until she was fully recovered from the anesthesia since patients can sometimes be woozy and fall. He followed her to the bathroom where she immediately threw up. He held her hair back, rubbing small circles on her back.

When she had finished, he handed her a paper towel. She wiped her mouth. "Thank you, sorry anesthesia makes me sick."

"Apparently."

"I think I can truly count you among my friends now, Alan."

"Why?"

"Because only a true friend will hold your hair back while you vomit."

"Indeed."

"If you'll excuse me," she said. "I have some other business to attend to."

"I will be right out here."

When she came out of the bathroom he said, "I took the liberty of asking the nurse for some crackers and ginger ale to help with your stomach—and mine."

"You're a trooper, Alan."

"Hardly."

She sat on the edge of the bed, eating crackers and sipping ginger ale.

"I'm ready to go," she said. "I'm starved for some real food and a shower."

"I'll get you something from the cafeteria. I'm not able to assist with the shower just yet. Maybe tonight."

She smiled. "You don't even stop for a hospital patient, do you?"

"They're my favorite—weak, vulnerable."

She laughed. "I'll take a hamburger and fries, please."

He soon came back food for both of them and a little gift—a stuffed monkey with a red heart between its paws with XOXO written across it

"Thank you, Alan. That's sweet."

"I would have preferred something more romantic, but I think this sums up my sentiments rather nicely."

She squeezed it and the monkey made kissy noises and a wolf whistle. "I love it."

"Miranda, I was thinking."

She looked at him while she chewed.

"For awhile, perhaps, it might be best for you to stay at the hotel with me—just until we get the damaged fixed at your place. I will even get you a room of your own. And it will be good to have you near while you recover, so I can help you when you need it—stuff like that."

She thought for a moment. "How long?"

"I don't know; maybe a week, maybe two. Your bedroom door needs to be replaced. The bullet hole in the wall needs to be fixed. Your couch replaced, unless you want to keep the one with the bullet hole. And the carpet in the living room needs to be replaced too, seems there's some blood on it."

"Oh." She chewed her food pensively and at last said, "Okay. I guess a room of my own might be best though, don't you think."

Alan was disappointed, but he refused to show it. "I think so too."

Miranda was finally released. Alan drove her to her apartment to pick up a few things. He then drove her back to the hotel and got her a room. He carried her bag to her room and opened the door for her.

"Wow," she said, looking around. "This is really nice. I guess this is what your room looks like?"

"Yes. Will you be okay here alone for awhile?"

"Where are you going?"

"I need to meet Denny."

"Oh, your balcony time."

"Yes."

"I wouldn't keep you from it for all the world. I'll be fine. I'll just attempt to shower and watch TV."

"Feel free to order room service if you get hungry and have it charged to my room, Room 405. Okay?"

She nodded.

He kissed her forehead and her cheek. "I'll be back soon and I'll come check on you. I have your spare room key."

"Okay. Have fun."

Alan met Denny on the balcony.

"How's Maria?"

"Miranda. She's well. They released her today. She's staying at my hotel for awhile until repairs are made on her place."

"Good idea. She's close by; you make a quick stop by her room and still get to go to your own room at the end of the night because you're just down the hall."

"Denny, she's injured," Alan said impatiently.

"Well…." Denny trailed off, chewing pensively on his cigar.

"Denny I was talking to the police today about the shooting."

"Yea?"

"It seems they've had an opportunity to interview Derek."

"Yea. Too bad they didn't kill him."

"Nevertheless…it seems part of the reason he broke in was because he believed Miranda had sent some people to rough him up, force him into signing the divorce contract."

"Oh yea?"

"Yes. What's more, part of his visit was to seek revenge for that."

"That's too bad."

"It is. Denny?"

"Yea?"

"Did you have something to do with Derek signing that contract?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Denny," Alan said coaxingly. "You can tell me. We're flamingos."

"Alan, c'mon…"

"Denny, I need to know."

"Oh! Alright! I did it. I made the call. I'm just trying to get you laid, man. You ought to thank me."

A hint of a smile played on Alan's lips. "I am thanking you, Denny."

"I had no idea he would shoot her though. Tough break."

"Who could have predicted a man with a history of violence and a TRO against him would have come after his ex-wife with a gun?"

"Exactly. I couldn't have predicted that."

"But I, and I'm sure I speak for Miranda as well, appreciate your efforts."

"I'm a giver, Alan; you know that."

"I do."

They sat silently for a moment. Then Denny said, "You really like this girl don't you?"

"I do."

"Alan, don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you," Denny said tentatively.

"But?"

"But you're not going to let her…I mean, you not going to…"

"You're not going to lose me Denny."

"Never?"

"Never."

"I don't know if I can share you, Alan."

"There's enough of me to go around."

"What if you end up liking her more?"

"That's not going to happen."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. I have a wide variety of needs that cannot all be fulfilled by just one person. Friendship with a woman is different than friendship with you. Even if I had no other desire than only friendship with Miranda, I just don't think I could ever fully be myself the way I am with you. I think Miranda and I have the potential to be very good, intimate friends, as well as lovers, but it won't ever be like the friendship I have with you, Denny."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Sleepover?"

"I can't tonight."

"See," Denny jumped up. "Just I thought! It's already started!"

"Denny, she's injured! In a few days, this won't be an issue."

"Oh yea right. I can just imagine the list of excuses…"

"Hey!" Alan jumped up. "What about when you got married to Bev, huh? I didn't say _anything_. I didn't try to lay all these guilt trips on you. Remember? You stayed with her all the time and I hardly ever saw you—never mind that I lost all sleepover privileges—but I kept my mouth shut. You know why? Because I was happy you found someone. I was happy _because_ you were happy."

"Well, I'm a republican," he said, pouting.

Alan shook his head in wonder. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know how to share like you democrats."

"You just said you were a giver!"

"Well, only if it's going to benefit me in the end."

"How is making my sex with Miranda possible going to benefit you?"

"You have sex with her. You come tell me about it. I get a blood flow. I get happy. And," he held up a finger, "I have something to fantasize about when I want to…"

"Stop right there!" Alan said, holding up both hands. He closed his eyes and spoke slowly, "Do _not_ tell me you fantasize about my sex life. I don't think I could handle it, Denny."

"Well, you're not _in_ it. I take you out, put myself in."

Alan rolled his eyes and shut them again. He shook his head and waved his hands as if to wipe away all he had just heard. He collected himself and said, "How about this: you sleep over at my place until I'm satisfied she has recovered enough."

"I don't like your place; it's too hot."

"I'll turn the air down."

"And the bed is hard."

"It's just for a few nights, Denny. I promise."

As they turned and exited the balcony, Denny said, "Will you call her while I'm there?"

"No, Denny."

"You're no fun at all."

"Just the same."

"I say we let Miranda decide. She may be up for it."

"I think I know her well enough to predict what her response would be."


End file.
